


I Won't Let Them Take Her

by Deathtouch



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Apologies, Crying, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Other, Regret, Sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-04
Updated: 2015-10-04
Packaged: 2018-04-24 18:36:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4930714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deathtouch/pseuds/Deathtouch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>☛ in which i write some upsetting/emo stuff about theon and kyra for kep's bday</p>
<p>
  <i>Reek didn’t understand why Ramsay had done it, at first; put the two of them in a cell together. What could he possibly gain from letting the two of them be with one another? The punishment of a dungeon was suffering in solitude and silence, was it not? </i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Won't Let Them Take Her

**Author's Note:**

> PLEASE READ* i have chosen not to rate this fic or tag archive warnings. that doesn't mean its for general audiences or that no archive warnings apply. it just means i've chosen not to indicate that any of them apply. please consider some of the archive warnings (graphic depictions of violence, major character death, rape/non-con etc) and consider that they MAY be included in this fic! read carefully, my friends.
> 
> okay and now for the fun stuff!! this is a birthday fic for the wonderful and incredible [keptrefler](http://keptrefler.tumblr.com/)! he is one of my favorite people to follow on twitter, and his art is amazing!! happy birthday kep! i hope it's a good one :)
> 
> also i should say thank you to my absolutely amazing beta [subwaywolf](http://archiveofourown.org/users/SubwayWolf/pseuds/SubwayWolf)! even though he's a fancy college wolf now he still has time to beta-read just about anything for me, and for that i'm incredibly grateful. he makes every single one of my fics better. thank you so much for all your hard work, wolfu!

Kyra refused to speak to him. Silent and defiant, she did not utter a single word. Reek could not blame her, he supposed. If he were her, he would not want to speak either. In the confines of his cell, now  _their_  cell, Reek thought she might give in, eventually. He had been driven mad enough to speak to himself a time or two, seeking consolation or companionship or simply wanting to hear anything other than the horrible quiet that blanketed the dungeons. It was a shock that no matter what he said, she refused to even acknowledge him.   
  
“Please,” Reek tried to croak out. His voice was so hoarse and his throat was so dry. “Please, Kyra.”  
  
He’d tried everything. He’d tried whispering gently to her, and shouting. He’d tried apologizing and even tried demanding that she speak. Now he was begging, pleading with her. She wouldn’t even look at him, only stayed curled in on herself in the opposite corner of the cell as if to put as much distance between them as possible.   
  
Reek didn’t understand why Ramsay had done it, at first; put the two of them in a cell together. What could he possibly gain from letting the two of them be with one another? The punishment of a dungeon was suffering in solitude and silence, was it not?   
  
Now Reek understood. Ramsay must have known Kyra would refuse and deny him. Maybe this was some elaborate game. Maybe Kyra was told to play by different rules, not to speak to Reek or she might be punished. In that case he really could not blame her, but still it hurt. It hurt so badly to have her so close and not to take any comfort in her. Not to be able to hear her voice or feel her touch…  
  
Well… Reek supposed he _could_ touch her. If she would let him.   
  
“I won’t hurt you,” he whispered, clambering on to his knees. “Let me… let... let me hold you,” he begged. Just for a little while. They could break away if the guards came knocking on the door.  
  
Reek crawled inch by inch across the dirty floor of the cell. He tried to make sense of Kyra’s expression in the dark but he wasn’t certain what he was seeing. The near pitch black of the room obscured her features. Where she was once beautiful her cheeks seemed sunken in and her eyes were two dark pits. Ramsay likely didn’t bother with feeding her either.   
  
Reek wanted to cry, or to apologize. This was all his fault. Every single thing that had happened to her since they’d been captured had all been his fault. If only he could take it all back. Go back before he ever captured Winterfell or invited Kyra to join him there. Back before betraying Robb, and before the war. He wanted to go back to making Kyra blush red. He wanted to go back to all the times he teased her at the tavern until she laughed and giggled. He wanted to go back to holding her in his arms and cradling her lovingly under the sheets of his bed.  
  
“Let me…” His words faltered, voice breaking. Reek reached out, and to his surprise, Kyra did not pull away. She let him touch her arm softly. She didn’t try and push him off, either. He gathered what strength he had and pulled her into his arms. She allowed for this to happen as well, her head falling against his shoulder.  
  
Her hair was so soft. Reek had forgotten what softness felt like, he was so used to the hard stone of the dungeon floor and rough spun clothing that barely clung to his starved frame. Kyra reminded him what softness was. Even her skin was smooth. She was cold simply because of how cold the dungeons were, but they could pool their warmth. If they huddled close enough Theon could help keep her warm.   
  
“I’m sorry,” he whispered to her. “I’m sorry for everything.”   
  
Though she didn’t say anything, she let herself be held and cuddled and cradled close and that in and of itself seemed to be acceptance of Reek’s harrowed apology.   
  
Reek could not say how long he spent holding her. Just holding her, something as simple as that. Time seemed to pass differently down in the dungeons. Hours could go by as quickly as minutes or as slowly as days, sometimes even years. Reek could not remember how long Kyra had sat alone in the corner of the cell, and now that he was holding her he couldn’t say how he’d been doing that either. She did not protest, or try to get away. Sometimes Reek’s body ached from sitting in the same position for so long, but then again one part or another was always aching when it came to his body.   
  
Eventually the guards came. They didn’t bother him very often, they certainly didn’t come bring him food once a day or anything of the sort. Most often they let him rot down there, barely bothering to acknowledge his existence. Maybe Kyra was only meant to stay with him a day or two, because they were coming for her. Reek couldn’t have known for sure, but somehow he was certain.  
  
He clutched desperately at Kyra’s shoulders as he heard the sounds of the key turning the lock on his cell door.   
  
_I won’t let them take her_ , he thought.  
  
Awful things happened every time Ramsay got his hands on something Reek loved. Reek knew what they did to the defenseless and outnumbered at the Dreadfort. He wished he could promise Kyra protection and care. He wished he could say the words out loud: _I won’t let them take you_. He knew it would do neither of them any good to make commitments he couldn’t keep. He was powerless, and he knew it, and all he could do was hold her close.  
  
When the door creaked open, light split the cell down the middle with a slice of brightness. Reek turned away from the intensity of it, hiding with Kyra from the way it made his eyes burn and head ache. He could hear the Bolton guards at the door stifling their gags, turning away to cough and retch.  
  
Reek dared to crack an eye open, and in the low light he saw what he could not see in the dark. It was not Kyra he was holding but a corpse, cold with death and ravaged by the dogs. They had gutted her some, so there were no insides to spill out. Still, it was her body; what was left of it, at least.  
  
Reek screamed, seizing up in horror. Kyra’s bones and rotting skin fell away, clattering against the stone floor. The memory of her death returned to him in a rush and soon it was Reek fighting back vomit. Tears filled his eyes making them blurry and his vision hazy.  
  
“Take her,” one of the guards said. “Ramsay wants her head for the ramparts, and the rest of her body for the dogs.”  
  
Her?  
  
Who?  
  
Reek saw through the blur of his tears that Kyra was there, laying peacefully on the ground beside him. Her pale skin seemed to glow ethereally through the tears clouding his vision. Had she been there all along? Did they bring her here to taunt him? One last goodbye before they took her from him forever.  
  
“I won’t let you take her,” Reek cried out, reaching out for Kyra’s arm. The words seemed familiar to him, though he could not recall why.  
  
He held so tight to her arm he was sure he was hurting her when they tried to pull her away. She did not cry out, though. He had always admired her strong will, and even now she was defiant. Kyra had never let anyone get the better of her, and she wasn’t going to let any Bolton men hear her scream now either.  
  
During the struggle came a sickening pop of a noise; a grotesque sort of crunch.  
  
Reek watched in horror as Kyra’s body was dragged away from her arm which he still held at the wrist.  
  
“For fuck’s sake…” One of the guards muttered, exasperated.  
  
“Leave it,” the other concluded, tone matching in annoyance. “He can eat it for supper for all I care.”  
  
Reek blinked his eyes, letting the tears fall down his cheeks. In the clarity that came afterward he saw what he could not see with teary eyes. It was not Kyra there but a corpse, and parts of her were separated in a horrible fashion across the floor of his cell. She was long dead and decaying. The memory of her death returned to him in a rush and Reek was screaming, screaming, _screaming_.  
  
The door to his cell closed with a hard slam. Darkness enveloped him. In the dark he could not see what he was holding, only feel. There was a hand in his own, someone reaching out for him. _Kyra_ , he thought. She’d been on his mind a moment ago, but he couldn’t remember why.  
  
“It’s okay,” Reek whispered, lacing their fingers together. “I’m here. I’ll take care of you.”  
  
He curled up on his side. His throat felt raw and his cheeks were wet but that was fine. He held tight to Kyra’s hand, worried about why she felt so cold. She didn’t answer him back, did not acknowledge his determination to care for her. She didn’t speak to him at all, really. Reek supposed he understood. If he were her, he would not want to speak to himself either.


End file.
